


Attempts 215-219

by Fabrisse



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Gen, Other Iterations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 15:43:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13034313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabrisse/pseuds/Fabrisse
Summary: Michael keeps trying.





	Attempts 215-219

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jamjar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamjar/gifts).



“Welcome. Everything is good.”

Michael seemed nice. The town looked nice, although… Eleanor asked, “Buffalo Wings? From real buffaloes?”

Michael shrugged. “It’s the good place. Anything is possible.”

***  
“Welcome. Everything is wonderful.”

Eleanor looked at the town square, “And a nightly dance competition? Of course, I’ll participate.” This was her idea of hell. “Hey, wait a minute…”

Everything went white.

***  
“Welcome. Everything is excellent.”

Michael smiled warmly and said, “And here’s your soulmate.” He handed her a curly haired cat with two different colored eyes. “We knew you liked the Rex cats more than any others, but even **we** were surprised that Kenver here was your true soulmate. We took the liberty of adding a litter box to your terrace.”

Kenver looked at Eleanor, narrowed his eyes, and hissed.

Michael said, “You see, he loves you already.”

***  
“Welcome. Everything is splendid.”

She wasn’t certain she’d ever had deja vu before. Eleanor was pretty sure that was the phrase she wanted, though some weird German thing, _die beiden Feinde des menschlichen Glückes, den Schmerz und die Langeweile*_ , kept running through her head, too.

Michael seemed sweet, obviously clueless, but sweet. And they definitely had the wrong Eleanor Shellstrop. The brightly colored cutesy facade of her house was bad enough, but she was pretty sure the clown paintings had been outlawed by the Geneva Convention.

The crowning touch, though, was being introduced to her soulmate, Tahani.

Eleanor pulled Michael to the side, and said as quietly as she could, “Are you sure? I mean, I may have had the odd fantasy or well, more dreams, I guess you could say, but I’ve never really been into girls. Really.”

Michael said, “I know what you’re thinking, but soulmates don’t have to be sexual partners. Your perfect understanding, your perfect match, could be an epic friendship beyond the words of all poets.”

Eleanor turned her head and smiled at Tahani a little tightly. “Well, if this is the good place and this is what your programs found, then she _must be_ my soulmate.”

She walked over to Tahani and was surprised to be kissed on both cheeks, “Welcome, Eleanor. You don’t mind if I borrow Michael for the moment, do you?” She didn’t wait for an answer before pulling Michael over to the terrace.

Tahani said, “Now, I do remember that little incident at my sixteenth birthday and, of course, the somewhat rebellious time of my second year at uni, but I’m not _really_ of a Sapphic disposition.” She turned and gave Eleanor what she hoped was an encouraging wave.

Michael nodded sagely. “I get it. Mortals throw around the word ‘soulmate’ to mean what is, generally, a purely physical manifestation. But here, in the good place, we know what it means to truly combine souls for a perfect match, and often, more often than you mortals might think, true soulmates are dear friends with deep understanding of each other. I’m certain that, given time, you and Eleanor will find a transcendent philosophical and spiritual connection.”

Tahani looked at the small home and then at the small blonde and said, “Of course, you’re right. How could it be otherwise.”

Michael walked her back to Eleanor and joined their hands. “I know you two will have so much fun getting to know each other.”

The two women looked at their joined hands after he left and immediately dropped them. There was a long, awkward pause before Tahani said, “Perhaps you’d show me the rest of your charming house?”

Eleanor hit the button to raise the screen separating her bedroom from the living area. “There it is.”

“Oh. I see.”

After another long-ish pause, Eleanor said, “You hungry?”

“Yes! Of course. We can go to one of those amazing little tea shops in town. It’s been years since I’ve let myself have a full cream tea.” She glanced upwards and said, “The demands of high fashion.”

“I wouldn’t know, but let’s see how good these cream teas can be.” As they began to walk together, Eleanor added, “I don’t suppose ‘tea’ could be a euphemism for cocktail, could it?”

Tahani said, “I certainly hope so.”

\---  
“It’s a set tea, miss. Misses. You can choose which tea you want, and whether you want plain or seasonal scones and gooseberry or rose petal jam, but there ain’t no cocktails.” Their waitress, Vicky, had an accent that was somewhere between Brooklyn and Cockney. “Now if this was a celebration…”

“It is.” Eleanor spoke so quickly the words were unintelligible.

“It is,” Tahani said more emphatically. “What is there better to celebrate than finding your soulmate.”

“Ah, your first day, then, congratulations,” the waitress said. “In that case, we add a glass of pink champagne, a smoked salmon sandwich, and a selection of _petit fours_ ," her pronunciation of the last was indescribable, "to the cream tea.”

Eleanor said, “Champagne gives me a head- ouch.”

“Miss?”

Eleanor caught Tahani’s head shake and realized the feeling in her foot was a stiletto heel. “Nothing. Sounds perfect,” she gritted out.

“I have a full bar back at my place," Tahani whispered. "We can go there afterward, but for all that's holy, let me have my champagne.”

Eleanor said, “You can have mine, too, if I get your potted shrimp sandwich.”

“Done,” Tahani said.

The waitress came back with the champagne. “Have you chosen a tea yet?”

“I don’t suppose you have Lipton’s,” Eleanor said. Off the blank looks of the waitress and Tahani, she added, “ Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.”

“And I’ll have the shu pu-erh tea.” Tahani said. 

“And your cakes?” the waitress asked. Her accent seemed to have migrated to Australia.

“May I?” Tahani said.

Eleanor made a go ahead gesture, and Tahani continued, “Madeira cake for my soulmate, and I’ll have a bakewell tart.” The waitress nodded and went on her way

“I’ll get my drank on any way I can at this point.”

Tahani looked pleased and said, “I do my best.”

From another table, they heard a distinguished looking young black man say, “Pick one? But there must be nearly a hundred teas.”

“One hundred three,” the waiter said. “And don’t forget to pick a cake at the same time. That should be easier as we only have fifteen. Or you could go to the place across the street. They have thirty.”

Tahani said, “Do you think I should help him?”

“Hard to tell. Maybe the guy in the saffron robe can help him out. Looks like that’s _his_ soulmate.”

“Of course. How silly of me.”

\---  
After tea, they walked to Tahani’s “little cottage.” “It’s smaller than I’m used to, but it’s based on the floorplan of Jacqueline Onassis’ Fifth Avenue apartment. It’s just so chic and cozy.”

Eleanor looked around the foyer and said, “Cozy. How big is this place?” 

“Only five bedrooms -- not counting the servants’ rooms of course -- and the library is small.”

“The library.” Eleanor looked around the little entry way and pointed. “Is that it?”

“No, silly, that’s the conservatory. I must ask Michael about having musicians come play the piano.”

“Of course, how silly of me.”

Tahani said, “I know there’s the welcome party tonight, but afterward, would you like to come back here and have a pajama party?”

Eleanor looked at her and said, “Sure. Because that wouldn’t be hell.”

They heard a chuckle before everything went white.

***  
“Welcome. Everything is outstanding.”

Eleanor looked around the house and said, “Clowns.”

“We saw your earthly love for these paintings and knew you’d appreciate the effort.”

“Of course,” Eleanor hoped she sounded bright rather than manic.

There was a knock at the door. “And that must be your soulmate. His name is Emmett,” Michael said. More loudly, he added, “Come in.”

Eleanor took in the floppy shoes, tiny umbrella, and mournful make-up. “Emmett.”

The clown honked and held both hands to his heart, knocking himself in the head with his umbrella. He did a perfect front roll to spring up at her feet as he pulled a bouquet of fake flowers from his inner coat pocket.

“Ah.” Eleanor yelled, startled. 

“He’s one of the silent ones,” Michael said, “but I’m certain you two will be able to communicate perfectly.”

**Author's Note:**

> * “The two enemies of human happiness are pain and boredom.” ―Arthur Schopenhauer
> 
> Picture of a [Cornish Rex cat](http://www.worldlifeexpectancy.com/images/a/d/c/b/cornish_rex/cornish_rex_1.jpg)


End file.
